


Borders and Shading

by Mirime



Series: Lemoncakes and Tea [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Light Dom/sub, kink meme fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirime/pseuds/Mirime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is the only one who's allowed to see her weakness. Kink meme fill (again).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borders and Shading

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a prompt sansan_got kink meme: _Dom!DirtySandor/Sub!Sansa. +20 if they're caught by anyone else. Love me some Dom!Dirty-talkin' Hound._  
>  Future fic, though this is geared more towards book!verse. Vague spoilers up to Dance With the Dragons regarding Bran, Rickon, Arya and Sandor, R+L=J theory and a blink-and-you-miss-it insinuation of Jon/Arya ship ~~'cause they're my guilty pleasure, so very much~~. **Warning for D/s** , of course. Title is In Flames' song _Borders and Shading_ which I consider book!SanSan's theme song.

ansa Stark was the Lady of Winterfell, the Winter Queen of North, the eldest true-born Stark. She bore all of those titles proudly and carried out her duties as was expected of her, performing superbly and being the strength of their battered family that had been torn apart and kept away from each other for so long. By right, Bran was supposed to be the one ruling the North while the winter raged, being the oldest son, but his focus had long ago shifted to his other fate - that of the skinchanger. He spent his time surveying their lands through the myriad of eyes at his disposal and reported his findings to her and she then made the decisions about the lives of people who fell under her care.

She had to be the strong one, for everyone - for Bran who had been broken and was trying to put himself together, for Rickon who was as wild as only a child raised by a wildling and a direwolf could be, for Arya who rarely talked about her time away from Westeros but who so obviously knew many ways to kill a man and tended to play with knives at dinners, for the servants at Winterfell, for the northmen struggling to survive the winter. She had to be strong for them all, never letting them glimpse beyond her facade and see the real Sansa, the girl-barely-grown-into-a-woman. She had to be strong all the time. Except with him.

Sandor Clegane was the only person she didn't have to pretend for. He knew her as no one else did, even better than she knew herself. And when she needed to fall apart, to give up control for a time, to be the weak one for a change, she could rely on him to help her with that.

"Let down your hair, little bird," he rasped in that rough voice of his that made her shiver all over and she hastened to obey, taking out the pins holding her braided hair up and then pulling her braid over her shoulder, taking it apart with practiced movements. Shaking out the curls, her red hair fell down her back to her waist, with some strands reaching even further down.

"Come here," he asked and Sansa walked towards where he was sitting on her bed. She came to a stop in his reaching distance and waited for his next demand. Sandor was in no hurry, though, taking hold of a handful of her hair, letting it fall through his fingers and touching no other part of her. Sansa wanted to squirm and ask him to hurry up but he had told her he had wanted her quiet and she knew better than to disobey him. He finally put his hand on her collarbone and then smoothed it down over her body, across her breasts and stomach before he nudged at her hip.

"Turn around."

Sansa felt his long fingers as they untied her gown with a skill born from frequent practice. He had always insisted on undressing her himself and she had gladly let him, the feel of his calloused fingers on her skin igniting her as if she was made of kindling and his touch was the spark that lit her on. She breathed out softly, trying not to moan when he cupped her buttocks in his hands, squeezing the tender flesh gently. And then he pushed her hair aside and licked at her spine in the hollow of her back and Sansa arched, a gasp escaping against her best intentions. She could almost feel him smirk as he abruptly let go of her.

"Look at me," he ordered and Sansa turned around, her warm gown pooling around her feet, her nakedness at display since she hadn't put on a shift that morning, anticipating this very occurence. Sandor's gaze came to rest on her breasts, rising and falling rapidly, her nipples already hard from excitement. "Are you wet for me, little bird?" he asked nonchalantly as he flicked first one and then the other nipple with his thumb. Even though they had been lovers for close to a year and Sansa had heard him ask the same question before, she still couldn't help but blush which amused him greatly, judging by his half-smile. She nodded quickly, though, not hiding the truth from him. She wanted him so badly she could scream if he let her. But no, he had told her to keep quiet this time and she was going to obey.

"Then show me, little bird," he challenged her and it took a few moments for Sansa to comprehend what he wanted of her. Her blush renewing, she shifted, spreading her legs more and then she pressed two of her fingers inside of herself, feeling the tight wetness and knowing it wouldn't be long before Sandor would be the one filling her up. She held out the wet fingers for his inspection and he took her wrist, holding her immobile while he took his time licking her moistiness off, sucking on her digits while keeping an eye contact with her.

"Your taste is delicious, little bird," he said at last as he pulled her close until she stood in between his legs. "Maybe I should throw you down on the bed, hold your legs apart and lick your wet cunt until you scream your throat raw with pleasure. Would you like that?"

Sansa shuddered. Hearing him tell her vulgar things like that had always had a peculiar effect on her. Instead of being offended, she wanted him to do to her the things he described and many times before he had. But at the moment she wanted more than his mouth on her. She wanted to be filled by him, every empty space in her taken up by him until no cracks, no emptiness remained and she was whole again. He seemed to have read her mind.

"No, you want more. You want me to fuck you, you want my cock so far up your tight cunt there is no space left between you and me. Isn't that right?"

She could only nod, impatient to finally start. Sandor kept his left hand on her hip, stroking her skin in circular motions with his fingers and used his right hand to unlace his breeches and pull out his already hard cock. Sansa licked her lips unconsciously at the sight.

"See something you like?" he taunted before he let go of her abruptly. "I don't think I'll fuck you after all."

Sansa almost forgot herself and opened her mouth to protest - he couldn't deny her after he had worked her up like that with his words - but he pressed a finger to her lips.

"You promised to be quiet, little bird, didn't you? No chirping allowed today," he spoke and she nodded in acceptance, even if she felt disappointed. "No, I won't fuck you. You will fuck me."

Her head shot up at that and she stared at him, immobile until he tugged her close and she went willingly, kneeling on the bed, straddling him and then she pressed herself down, her body opening up to accept him in and she pressed her mouth against his shoulder to stop any sound from escaping because she didn't want him to stop her, not now when she was finally getting what she wanted.

She paused when she took him inside her completely, her breathing fast and irregular, her body stretched around him, the two of them fitting together perfectly.

"Lady Stark," he whispered to her and she thought it wasn't fair how he could sound so unaffected while she had to consciously stop herself from moaning and panting how much she loved this and him. "Take away all of your propriety and titles and what is left is a wanton woman willing to fuck an ugly dog because she likes his cock and what it does to her."

She frowned at him, wanting to protest his words and demand that he stop talking like that but she couldn't. He was the only one she had no power over, the only one who could demand things of her instead of the other way around. She was the ruler over many thousands of lives but when it was just the two of them, Sandor was the one who ruled over her and she gladly let him. He was the only one she trusted that way. But that didn't mean she liked to hear him demean himself.

With words out of question, she took his face in her hands, looking him in the eyes and she kept looking at him as she lifted herself up and then lowered down slowly, trying to convey all she felt through her eyes. And knowing her as he did, Sandor understood her message because he snorted and then pulled her closer, his strong hands coming to rest on her hips, helping her move in a steady rhythm, up and down, up and down.

"Still so naive," he rasped as he caught her nipple in between his teeth and tugged, prompting a gasp from her. "You are a grown woman, hell, you fuck like a grown woman, but deep down, you're still that naive girl who believes in songs and fairy tales."

He took a fistful of her hair at the nape of her neck and used it to tilt her head to the side, exposing the long line of her neck to him. He nuzzled at the soft flesh, gently scraping his teeth over her pulse point before taking a deep whif of her scent.

"You-" he started saying but was interrupted by the door banging open and a feminine voice exclaiming "Seven bloody hells!"

Sansa froze. Arya! She tried to twist to face her sister, but Sandor's grip at her neck and waist prevented it.

"What the hell do you want, wolf bitch?" he barked but continued before the girl could reply. "Unless the castle's on fire or under attack, piss off!"

"Bugger off, Clegane!" Arya retorted in similar vein. "I want to talk to Sansa so get your ugly self away from her."

Sansa really wanted to tell Arya that that was the last thing she wanted. Her relations with Sandor were something akin to a public secret - everyone knew about it but no one really minded, except for Arya, that is. Sandor barred his teeth at the younger girl.

"If I wasn't balls-deep in your sister right now, I would throw you out by the scruff of your neck like the disobedient pup you are."

"You could try, dog," Arya fumed and Sansa had had enough.

"Arya!" her voice cracked across the room. "Unless it's an emergency, you can wait until I'm finished."

She could hear her sister mutter something under her breath but she obeyed, recognizing the firm tone of Lady Stark that Sansa had used. She slammed the door hard behind her and Sansa let out a sigh. She was about to resume movement when Sandor lifted her off of him, deposited her on the bed and stood up.

"Sandor?" Sansa asked uncertainly before she realized what she had done and slapped a hand across her mouth. He leaned over her as she laid sprawled on the bed, his knees keeping her legs spread.

"Weren't you supposed to be quiet this time?"

"I'm sorry," Sansa said, meaning it. Usually, when she broke the rule he had set in the beginning, he punished her by leaving her unsatisfied, unless she managed to persuade him otherwise.

"Are you?" he asked, his fingers pushing into her and twisting and she moaned out loud. "You don't sound sorry at all."

He pulled away from her and she grabbed at his shoulder.

"Please, don't go," she begged and he relented, leaning over her again.

"What am I to do with you, little bird?" Sandor kept himself upright with one hand while he used the other to stroke over her thighs and hips, carefully avoiding her center. "Tell me, what should I do with you? Should I use my fingers on you? Like this? Stroking your little clit while you beg for release? Or maybe I should fuck your teats, they're big enough and smooth. They would feel like heaven around my cock. Would you like that?"

Sansa was not able to answer him coherently, the images his words painted too vivid and arousing for her and she could only moan helplessly as he touched her body in every way he knew drove her wild. He was doing it on purpose, she knew but she could care less as long as the pleasure kept escalating.

"You haven't sucked my cock in a while, now that I think about it," Sandor continued relentlessly. "That mouth of yours would earn you a fortune in a brothel, men lining up to have your lips around their cocks."

"No," Sansa shook her head. "Yours. Only yours."

His eyes had long ago stopped scaring her but there was still a danger in them and that danger intensified with his arousal. She had hit a nerve, she knew. He wanted her but he still couldn't understand why she gave herself to him again and again. The concept of her wanting to be his, only his, was enough to make him stop playing with her, though and with his eyes dark with his desire for her, Sansa knew he would stake his claim on her with thoroughly fucking her.

"You're mine, little bird," he affirmed and pulled her upright, having her straddle him again. She was much more impatient after having been almost denied and she set up a fast rhythm from the beginning, moving herself up and down on his cock, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she rode him fluidly, not bothering to stifle her moans this time. Unlike before, Sandor didn't try to move her along and let her fuck him at her own pace. Only when her release started approaching and her movements became jerky did he take over, his arms helping her rise and fall on him until she shuddered all over, her channel tightening around him and she cried out his name as she fell apart, safe in the knowledge he would keep her together.

He let her catch her breath before he started to move inside her again, purposefully and efficiently, seeking his own release in her. Sansa merely hugged him and let him do as he pleased, her body satisfied already. She kissed his scarred cheek when she felt him release in her and simply clung to him as he panted into her ear.

"I love you," she said softly. "And I don't think you are an ugly dog."

She could more feel than hear his sigh as he finally separated himself from her.

"You better go see what your sister wanted."

He was ignoring her previous statement but she knew he didn't do well with voicing his emotions and so she let it go.

"Do you think she's too upset?" she asked as she worked on rebraiding her hair into some semblance of order.

"Even if she is, she'll just run off to that Targaryen cousin of yours to be comforted," Sandor commented idly, watching her as she redressed herself. Sansa paused, wondering if he was implying what she thought he was implying but decided not to pry further. Unlike her younger sister, she knew the value of discretion.

"Will you come to me tonight?" she asked instead and felt relieved when he nodded. "I'll see you then," she told him and walked out, feeling the weight of her burdens settling down on her again. The night couldn't come soon enough.


End file.
